


Direct

by pippinmctaggart



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Challenge Response, Inspired by Photography, M/M, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-20
Updated: 2005-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: Written for <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-C"><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://lotrpschallenge.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://lotrpschallenge.livejournal.com/"><b>lotrpschallenge</b></a></span> number 31, <i><b>Photographs</b></i>. Many thanks, as always, to <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-P"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/"><b>elmathelas</b></a> for the immediate beta.</p><p> This is the photo I chose.<br/><a id="cutid1" name="cutid1"></a><br/><a href="http://smg.photobucket.com/user/PippinMcTaggart/media/Billy/love.jpg.html"></a><br/><img/><br/></p>
    </blockquote>





	Direct

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for [](http://lotrpschallenge.livejournal.com/profile)[**lotrpschallenge**](http://lotrpschallenge.livejournal.com/) number 31, _**Photographs**_. Many thanks, as always, to [](http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/profile)[**elmathelas**](http://elmathelas.livejournal.com/) for the immediate beta.
> 
> This is the photo I chose.  
>   
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/PippinMcTaggart/media/Billy/love.jpg.html)  
>   
> 

It was this photo that did it, you see. This one, here, that I have in my hand? Yeah. God, he’s beautiful, isn’t he? But I swear to you, I had never seen that look before.

I just didn’t know. Not until weeks after this event—not that I can even remember what this event was, they all blur together after a while, you know. I do remember it was cold, though, I’d remember that even if my nose wasn’t a bit pink in the photo. I’d remember because even as this photo was being taken, Dom was pushing his gloves into my hands, trying to get me to take them.

Look at him. How could he have hidden that look from me, how could this look have escaped me? It wasn’t until weeks after that night, when I finally saw the photo, that I knew. I handed it to Dom and asked him to describe it for me, asked him what he saw.

I’ll never forget what he said.

He said, ‘I see that you were tired. I see that you were so fucking exhausted you were swaying on your feet, but your smile and your eyes kept anyone else from noticing. I see that your smile says _Oh, thank you, very kind indeed, please may I leave now, pleasefuckingpleaseletmego_. Why did you think I was hovering so much, Bill? I was afraid you were just going to keel over.’

He was right, you know. Not a real surprise, as he knows me better than anyone on the planet, even better than Margaret. But I finally saw more behind his attention.

I asked him what else he saw.

‘I see that tent in the background. Remember when you tripped over the guidewire filming Hobbiton?’

Come on, Dom. Do I look like I’m laughing?

‘What do you want from me, Bill?’

I took the picture back, then, and looked at it. I told him I wanted to know when his hair had started catching on his eyelashes. I wanted to know when he’d finally seen sense and started wearing a scarf when it was cold. I wanted to know if there was any particular reason the scarf he kept wearing was one I’d given him. But most of all, I wanted to know why he was looking at me like he loved me.

‘Because I do.’

And there it was, just like that. Just that simple, that direct. Just like the look in the photo.

Luckily he dodged the punch I threw at him. I hadn’t intended to do it, that was for sure, and I certainly hadn’t meant to call him a bloody sodding prick, and luckily I grabbed him before he could storm out. I held the picture in front of his face and asked—no, I’m rather afraid I might have demanded—that he tell me why I’d never seen that look before, why he’d goddamned hidden that look from me, the look that—

Then the little gobshite interrupted me. He was a bit pissed, too, and I suppose I can’t blame him. ‘Why I hid it? For exactly this reason, you just took a fucking shot at me! I know you don’t feel remotely the same, Billy, and I wasn’t going to shove all that on you. And I’m sorry if once in a while I can’t manage to hide it, but I was bloody well worried about you that night. So just forget about it, and look at the picture again, because guess what? I wasn’t even fucking looking at you there. If you must know, I was looking _behind_ you, and plotting our escape route if you needed to get out, because you’re my best mate and that’s what best mates do. Just remember that, because that’s all that fucking matters.’

I looked at the picture again, imagined the path his gaze was taking. It was true. He wasn’t actually looking at me. He was looking just behind me, probably toward the carpark beside the other tent.

He loved me.

At that moment, that day weeks after the photo had been snapped, I felt a sense of freedom like I’ve never known before. He didn’t know it, but his look in that photo was the catalyst, the thing that finally set me free.

I kissed him.

I see that look rather a lot, now. Which is just fine by me.


End file.
